#1 Senior Journal--Personal Essay "Warmup" (post before Sept. 6)
Young writers who feel as if they have nothing to say to the world actually do.
You do, too.
In your short 17 or so years on Planet Earth you have already experienced people and events that have molded your image, touched you to the core, or have changed your life.
If you try to deny this, then answer this question--are you anything remotely like the helpless, crawling, bawling, slobbering infant that lay in the crib? Someone encouraged you to walk, talk, and close your mouth when you ate your food. Someone, and some key events in your life, that undoubtedly involved other people, helped you to become the miracle merging of body and soul that is you.
Bet you never thought about it that way.
So here's the journal assignment: briefly (minimum of 200 words) tell us here at Schoolsville about a person or event that deeply affected your life. I think we all can learn something from your story.
I'd like it if you used THIS response (if you wish) as a warmup for your personal essay, your first writing assignment reflecting on the same prompt (650 word limit) that's due September 12. You might want to use this response to write your Common App essay, and if you do, here are the four Common App writing prompts, all asking you to reflect on a personal event, that would apply:
*Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?
*Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
*Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?
*Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, which marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
You do, too.
In your short 17 or so years on Planet Earth you have already experienced people and events that have molded your image, touched you to the core, or have changed your life.
If you try to deny this, then answer this question--are you anything remotely like the helpless, crawling, bawling, slobbering infant that lay in the crib? Someone encouraged you to walk, talk, and close your mouth when you ate your food. Someone, and some key events in your life, that undoubtedly involved other people, helped you to become the miracle merging of body and soul that is you.
Bet you never thought about it that way.
So here's the journal assignment: briefly (minimum of 200 words) tell us here at Schoolsville about a person or event that deeply affected your life. I think we all can learn something from your story.
I'd like it if you used THIS response (if you wish) as a warmup for your personal essay, your first writing assignment reflecting on the same prompt (650 word limit) that's due September 12. You might want to use this response to write your Common App essay, and if you do, here are the four Common App writing prompts, all asking you to reflect on a personal event, that would apply:
*Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?
*Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
*Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?
*Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, which marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
NOTE: You should NOT respond to the fifth Common App prompt for this personal essay since we will be writing a similar assignment later in the year when we study setting. Here is that prompt that you should NOT use for this assignment: *Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?
If I may use a simple metaphor, consider this journal posting a flexing and stretching of your writing muscles for your final paper.
In sharing your experience, you'll be participating in bettering the human race. That's right. You'll be educating the entire world community here at Schoolsville, a world that could stand to learn that no two people, let alone races, religions, or nations, are exactly alike. The world can learn from your story, or at least begin to develop some much needed emotions of empathy or sympathy. Wouldn't you be interested in reading about how some Afghan teen, his country ravaged by foreign and civil wars, responds to the same writing prompt that you've just been given? Would his paper help you to understand his hopelessness, his fear, his distrust of foreigners?
OK, I'm only pretending that the existence of Schoolsville, or the completion of your personal essay paper, is vital to the future of the human race. But the point of my exaggeration is this: reading what others have to say is important, whether they live on the other side of the globe or in the neighboring cul-de-sac. Understanding them might help us to decide if we want to invade their country or invite them to our Labor Day barbecue.
Communication with others is the first "baby step" in learning how to get along. If we can't "walk in someone's shoes," then at least we should be willing to slip on someone's sandals and wiggle our toes for a spell. We just might learn that everyone in the world is not wearing the same 9 1/2 B's.
If I may use a simple metaphor, consider this journal posting a flexing and stretching of your writing muscles for your final paper.
In sharing your experience, you'll be participating in bettering the human race. That's right. You'll be educating the entire world community here at Schoolsville, a world that could stand to learn that no two people, let alone races, religions, or nations, are exactly alike. The world can learn from your story, or at least begin to develop some much needed emotions of empathy or sympathy. Wouldn't you be interested in reading about how some Afghan teen, his country ravaged by foreign and civil wars, responds to the same writing prompt that you've just been given? Would his paper help you to understand his hopelessness, his fear, his distrust of foreigners?
OK, I'm only pretending that the existence of Schoolsville, or the completion of your personal essay paper, is vital to the future of the human race. But the point of my exaggeration is this: reading what others have to say is important, whether they live on the other side of the globe or in the neighboring cul-de-sac. Understanding them might help us to decide if we want to invade their country or invite them to our Labor Day barbecue.
Communication with others is the first "baby step" in learning how to get along. If we can't "walk in someone's shoes," then at least we should be willing to slip on someone's sandals and wiggle our toes for a spell. We just might learn that everyone in the world is not wearing the same 9 1/2 B's.
Respond here before Friday, Sept. 6. I will post your responses for everyone to read early Friday morning. The final essay is due Sept. 12.
To get some ideas, you may review the comments given by former seniors by visiting the archived posts (see August 2012 and August 2012)for this same assignment.
posted by JTF @ 11:28 AM
45 comments
45 Comments:
If someone were to ask me who the most influential person in my life has been thus far, anyone who knows me well would probably be surprised by my answer. My answer to this question would be my father, whom was only in my life sparingly until I was fourteen years old. When I was about to enter into the fifth grade, my parents divorced, and I lived with my mother five to six days out of the week. After many empty promises to meet up with me and my younger sister, and many “no shows” on his part on visitation days, I realized that we were no longer his top priority. After that I would receive emails from him maybe twice a month and that was it. When I was fourteen, I learned that he had passed away. Although it technically wasn’t until I was fourteen, I lived most of my life with the absence of my father. Since he was unemployed and wouldn’t financially support me and my sister, my mother had to spend most of her time working up to three jobs. This taught me how to be self sufficient; I taught myself and my sister how to ride a bike, and I learned how to do my own laundry and make my own food at a very young age. My childhood situation taught me how to be strong and how to be mature. It also taught me to appreciate everything I did have in my life, like my mother and her love for me and my sister. So ironically, the person in my life who had the most influence on me was a person who was barely in my life at all.
Alexis P said...
Depression is an awful thing to see someone go through, but it’s even worse to watch a child experience it. My cousin, Andrew, who is only eight years old, is going through one of the hardest times in his life. His mother and father are recently divorced. They’ve tried to protect him as much as they possibly could, but nothing could have protected him from this. What is a child to do when his heart is torn in two, between a mother and a father who resent each other? How can he confide in them, when he feels like he is being abandoned and betrayed? Of course, both of his parents will tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that they still love him just as much as before, and that everything will be okay. Dad moved out, got a new apartment up the street, and has a grand total of about three pieces of furniture. Neither of them can afford all they need to survive and provide for their children. Mom doesn’t take the full amount of child support – an attempt to be semi-nice to the man who destroyed and gave up on their marriage. What I’m neglecting to say is the reason why they got divorced. I do this on purpose because I don’t know the entire truth, and my aunt still isn’t sure exactly what went wrong. They tried their best to explain to Andrew what was about to happen, to be as gentle as possible, but there’s no gentle way to say that the family is splitting up. He pretends he’s okay. I see him laugh, putting on a show for everyone around him, but hidden underneath that smile are the tear stained cheeks from crying himself to sleep night after night. His eyes have a sort of permanent redness to them now. He is currently seeing a counselor, and I assume it’s helping him. I want to be able to help him. I’ve made it my duty to earn his trust so he can confide in me. I will always be there for him, and I need him to know that. Every now and then I’ll take him out to do something fun, to take his mind off of everything. Hopefully he’ll open up to me. This whole thing has changed my life. My aunt can’t do it all on her own, so it’s my job to help out when I can. I do my best to be there when she needs me, and when my cousins need me. It’s impossible to sit around and watch Andrew go through this torture day after day. The day his dad walked out of that house, was the day that I stepped in.
I am the “little bitty” of my family. My brother bestowed me the nickname, “Bid,” meaning I am the youngest and smallest. Being a member of an exceptionally large family has given me the chance to mature faster than my peers. I grew up being the shyest of all my cousins. Learning how to become connected to each family member has molded me into I am today. All my cousins are loud and outspoken while I used to sit back and just watch the conversations as they were taking place around me. Getting a word out during any family function requires a lot of work. Over the years I have learned how to state my opinion and be apart of discussions. Though being the youngest has its disadvantages, I have learned how turn them into advantages. My family used to inform me last when it came to any news regarding the family. I would get the impression they wanted me to stay small and naïve for as long as possible but as I have grown up I understand how important communication with my family is. My family is more than just a family to me now, they are people that I can trust and talk to about anything. I believe that learning how to connect to family members was a major transition for me. I went from being the “itty bitty” in the family to a mature grown up. Now I look at being the youngest as a blessing because I can learn from the mistakes family members have made over the years. My cousins have taught me to live life to the fullest and to do so with a sense of humor.
Miranda M said…
An injury might be one of the most devastating things to happen to a young athlete, such as myself. Back in the spring of 2013, I was playing a lacrosse game late in the afternoon against a worthy opponent, Charter High School. The game was getting very intense. The field was ruined due to the rain that had fallen throughout the course of the day but, as an athlete, you stay focused and don’t worry about a little mud. The game was tied with seven minutes left and I was not going to let my team lose. With five minutes left, we scored and were up by one, adrenaline was pumping through my veins. At the start of the next possession, Charter had the ball and I ran up to the opposing player and stood my ground. I pushed her out of the circle but then she charged at me and, as I tried to keep up with her, I heard the dreadful pop of my left knee. We ended up losing by two points and I had to sit out for the rest of the season. I am devoted to my team and to have to sit out for the remaining six games was death. Later that week I had received the news that I tore my ACL, which is a career ender. I played three sports and they are a main aspect of my life. The friends I’ve made on those teams and what playing sports has done for me not only physically but mentally meant so much to me. In the end I was a “coper” and had to go through weeks of intensive therapy to get my knee stabile again. Those weeks were very trying for me, not knowing if I could ever play again to my full potential and also not knowing if when I first get back out there that my knee could get hurt again. In the end, this experience deeply affected my life but not in the negative way you would think. It made me stronger mentally and physically and taught me that I am more than an athlete with an injury. I am me because I never gave up on my love of sports and my devotion to the team, but most importantly I never gave up on myself.
Every morning I wake up to a text message from my Pop- Pop, usually a text message consisting of “It’s going to be a beautiful day” or “teamwork divides the task and multiplies the success.” This may sound insane to think that a seventy year old man can text, but wow do I give him credit for it. Behind the screen of that text is man full of strength, love and devotion. Each text reminds me of how blessed I am to have him still alive and in my life. He is a man who has battled cancer for about thirty years of his life, and never given up faith. Behind each text is a man who is an avid fisherman. His cancer never has held him back from doing what he truly loves- to fish. He has probably won close to forty or more fishing competitions and is the oldest fisherman on the state of Delaware fishing team. Behind each text is also a man of complete devotion. He has devoted his life to my grandmother his whole life. Together this past August they celebrated fifty years of life long happiness and love. A man like this is someone I look up to. Every morning I read these texts and start my day with a smile. When I think about it now my grandpa is probably one of the most influential people in my life, not just because of a few text messages but because of his strength and his love. My grandfather could have given up on himself and let cancer defeat him, but he didn’t. He has been one of the very few people who have taught me how to get over hard battles, defeats and obstacles in my life. If you think about maybe a text isn’t a whole lot, but to me each morning they mean a lot. That text gives me a fresh start to my day, just like he has a fresh start cancer free. No matter how hard life hits me in the face, I look back at these text messages and know that no matter what “it’s a beautiful day.”
There is not one person on this earth that has had more influence on my life, than my parents. My parents loved each other so much that they wanted to put that love into a human being. Without them I wouldn’t even exist. My mom carried me inside of her for 9 months. She nurtured me and did all the things necessary to keep me healthy for my birth. I’m sure there were days when I was kicking her non-stop and causing her so much pain, but she cared for me when I could not. During those times my dad put up with the moods I put my mom in; a true trooper he was. My birth itself is a true example of love. My mom went through excruciating pain and my dad fainted. I can only imagine the happiness on my parents faces after going through all of that when they finally got to hold me for the first time. I’m sure they made a silent promise to themselves that day, to always love and protect their little girl. So as I grew up, I always had them watching over me. My mom washed my bloody knees off after I fell for the first time on my bike. Only mommy’s kisses would make the pain go away. Dad let me help him build the shed with my nifty plastic hammer (he did all the work). My mom was there for me when I came home from school crying because the girls were mean. She always taught me to be the bigger person and to kill them with kindness. My dad always makes sure the boys are being proper with his not-so-little girl. They always have and always will look out for me. Sometimes I don’t like to listen to them. How do they even know what my life is like anyway? Then I realize they went through the same things. They provide so much for me and I am so grateful. I could not be the person I am today without their loving care and great lessons, many of which I still have to learn.
Brittany B
Coming into school freshman year was not easy for me. Some kids can not wait to get into high school and experience what high school is all about. For me, going into school was not a walk in the park and I surely wasn’t excited for it. I was suffering from a concussion that caused me to have severe headaches. I could not tolerate loud sounds or bright lights. It was hard enough being what seemed as though, like I was the only person who didn't know anyone, but i also wasn't myself. My personality was totally different. I wasn’t as friendly or bubbly as I normally was. As I recovered, I began to make friends. Shortly after getting cleared from my first concussion, I was then, kicked in the head and suffered from yet another concussion. I was then unable to come to school for a month. I thought I was never going to get better. After three months, I started to see improvement in my behavior, attitude, and mood. Just as I thought things were looking bright for my high school career, I got hit in the head once more. It that time I wanted to give up. I thought that getting better was just not an option. I couldn’t remember anything and I knew that high school wasn’t supposed to be the way I was experiencing it. After returning sophomore year and recovering from my previous concussions, I truly found out what I was suppose to be and how much fun and rewarding high school was.
Brittany B
Coming into school freshman year was not easy for me. Some kids can not wait to get into high school and experience what high school is all about. For me, going into school was not a walk in the park and I surely wasn’t excited for it. I was suffering from a concussion that caused me to have severe headaches. I could not tolerate loud sounds or bright lights. It was hard enough being what seemed as though, like I was the only person who didn't know anyone, but i also wasn't myself. My personality was totally different. I wasn’t as friendly or bubbly as I normally was. As I recovered, I began to make friends. Shortly after getting cleared from my first concussion, I was then, kicked in the head and suffered from yet another concussion. I was then unable to come to school for a month. I thought I was never going to get better. After three months, I started to see improvement in my behavior, attitude, and mood. Just as I thought things were looking bright for my high school career, I got hit in the head once more. It that time I wanted to give up. I thought that getting better was just not an option. I couldn’t remember anything and I knew that high school wasn’t supposed to be the way I was experiencing it. After returning sophomore year and recovering from my previous concussions, I truly found out what I was suppose to be and how much fun and rewarding high school was.
The summer after freshman year, as I said goodbye to my mother and sisters at the Philadelphia airport, I finally realized that my childhood dream was about to come true. In a couple hours I would be on a plane with just my Grandma on our first adventure together to the mysterious country of Ireland. Even with all the planning throughout the past year, and the last minute packing, a moment like this doesn’t seem real until its happening. The next ten days were undoubtedly the best days of my life. They were filled with a constant flow of new information and new experiences, and they were easily appreciated. I couldn’t ask for anything more as I had my favorite grandma and the newness of Ireland to consume the days. I’ve always had an interest in travel, and it will most definitely become a major aspect of my adult life. But being fortunate enough to have the experience of being in another country opened my eyes at a young age. It wasn’t just a vacation, but a learning experience. I saw the way a farming citizen of Ireland lived, the way a city in another country functions, I learned about their economic hardships, and the religious battles within the country. In a way this was a transition from seeing the world from a child’s point of view to an adult’s. You can only assume what you know about a country until you are actually in it, experiencing and learning from it day by day. My approach to understanding and appreciating morphed from almost too accepting to more realistic and practical. I am so incredibly grateful that I have a wise grandma who understands the benefits of visiting other countries other than our own, and who was able to gladly share it with me.
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
All children love to dress in their favorite clothes, but back when I was 5; my favorite thing was to wear pants on my head. One day I wanted to change up my look, so I asked my brother, who was 9 at the time, to give me a haircut. What I meant to ask was for a new hairdo. But my brother did as I said and started chopping away. He cut some pieces close to my scalp leaving me with bald spots, and others he just gave a quick trim. When he was finished he said “Voila!” I went to go look in the mirror and my parents saw me and shrieked. They were furious with my brother until he told them I asked for him to cut my hair. Thankfully my aunt was a hairdresser.
As my aunt examined my hair, she was mumbling words like “how am I supposed to fix this mess?” She told my mom that she had to shave it off. So, as the rest of my hair fell to the ground with the buzzing sound of the razor my mom was figuring out ways to make me look less like a boy with my new do. She decided to get my ears pierced and dress me in only dresses until my hair grew back.
People would stare at me all the time wondering what was wrong with me. When my hair started to grow back, it grew patchy. So, there I was in my aunt’s kitchen getting my head shaved for the second time. Still getting stared at every day, and laughed at by other kids. My mom and I went to the pool this one time and I was trying to enjoy myself when someone came up to my mom and asked if I was okay and how long I had. People were judging me without knowing the story behind it.
As I was getting ready to take a bath one night, my shirt got stuck on my head. I looked in the mirror and realized that my shirt resembled hair. I started wearing shirts for hair all the time now until I figured out that wearing pants on my head looked more like real hair. People never saw me without pants on my head. I would not take them off, they were my thing and it made me different from everyone else. I did not care if people stared because I thought I was beautiful with my long printed pigtails.
For 11 years, my life has centralized around a widely known but vastly misunderstood condition known as Type 1 Diabetes. When I received my diagnosis at age six, no one in my family really knew what to expect. I had lost a bunch of weight as the result of my diagnosis and spent the better half of my kindergarten year napping due to extreme lethargy and incessantly drinking water. We were glad for an answer to my puzzling symptoms, yet wary of what the prognosis would be for my future. I was transferred to A.I. DuPont Hospital for Children immediately after my diagnosis. My family crowded into a small, shared hospital room and spent the next week and a half learning how to take care of my condition. My nurse was a young, enthusiastic woman with a real passion for what she did. She was also a Type 1 Diabetic and she served as a perfect role model during the first steps of my treatment. She comforted me during my first insulin shots and talked my family through a crash course in carb counting. Most importantly, she taught me to never feel limited by my diabetes. I could achieve anything I set my mind to. So, I set my mind to becoming exactly what my nurse was to me: a mentor, a supporter, an advocate, an inspiration. From then on, I spent my elementary school days learning how to do my shots myself. I learned about everything from syringes to insulin pumps. When people would ask about my diabetes, I would list off terminology like pre-med student. Now that I’m older, I volunteer at the very same hospital where I met the nurse that inspired me to become a Diabetes Nurse Educator. I have come full circle. Being diagnosed with diabetes has helped me to realize my passion in life: to help and inspire other people that they can do whatever they set their minds to.
As I was growing up my parents always tried to impart little pieces of knowledge and wisdom to me everyday, hoping that eventually something would stick. I was a pretty easy going child, but I was always in my own world and mostly ignored their opinions, stubbornly sticking to my own. When I was eleven my dad said something to me that finally grabbed my attention. I don’t remember how it came about, but he told me to remember that, no matter what,I should strive to be “wealthy in the things money can’t buy.” For some reason, this advice stuck with me and I continue to expand what I think its true meaning everyday. At first I was shocked at the thought that I could be wealthy in anything other than money. It was an idea that I had never fathomed. Although I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my fist, I have always been very fortunate and my parents have worked, and continue to work extremely hard to provide my sisters and I with everything we need. Still, I could not grasp what else a person would want a wealth of. Is that not the American dream, to lead a life of complete comfort and bliss, with every need met in the ring of a bell? Looking back I am almost embarrassed how ignorant I was to the very simple conclusion I have since reached. My dad was telling me that I should acquire a wealth of happiness, love, friendship, laughter and the many other priceless values that not only bring you a fulfilling life, but will also give you the means to be successful in whatever you chose to do in life. I have come to the realization that while success does not always bring you happiness, happiness will always bring success. Regardless of what major I chose to do in college or what kind of job I end up doing, I know that true prosperity lies with the joy felt getting there.
Major depression is one of those struggles in life that can either make or break a person. I have been lucky enough to have grown stronger from my battle with depression. When a person has such terrible saddness, it’s hard for them to realize that what they are feeling isn’t normal. For me, I just thought that everyone felt like this but they were just pretending to be happy. After a few months, I figured out that it wasn’t normal to be so sad and so low all the time. I began to compare myself to others and to dislike myself greatly. The more I saw of people, the worse I felt. Then one day, I began to realize that it was okay to get help. I learned more about what all of these feelings meant. I talked to a counselor and then a doctor. I was diagnosed with major depression. After counseling sessions and one major event in my life, I realized that I could use my experience to help others.
One day, my dearest friend came and told me that he was going away for a few months. He also felt the same ways that I did, so we had a strong connection. When he came back from this absence, he told me what had really happened. He had tried to take his own life because he was so unhappy. He went to a mental hospital to find out that he had severe depression. When he tried to harm his fragile life, he called a helpline. I received from him the name of the helpline. I immediately contacted the woman in charge and began training the next week.
All I want to do is to help people like my friend. Those who don’t have hope who just need someone to tell them that everything will be okay. I know where they have been, I know how they feel. Volunteering at this suicide helpline has been one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life. After my first few shifts, I really started to understand what a difference one person can make. I never really believed that whole philosophy about how one person can make a difference. Now, I understand. My friend helped me to find my life’s passion. I believe that helping people is what I am supposed to do. Words will never be able to express how grateful I am that I have found this passion so early in life. If there is one thing that I can say I achieved at all during my high school time, it’s that depression did not break me.
A spontaneous bump in the road jolts me awake from my cat nap induced by the steady, calming hum from the engine of my mom’s Chevy Malibu. Now fully awake and energized, I look out the window eager to reach my destination. I begin to notice the frequency of high end cars- Buicks, Cadillacs, BMWs-passing by us. I keep myself busy gawking at the houses gradually becoming larger, with more elegant curb appeal, and fancy cars stockpiled in the driveways-we are getting close. Within five minutes my mother and I pull up to Radley Run Country Club. I step out of the car and make my way into the building through the door labeled “Employees Only.” As I step in the door my senses are overwhelmed by the new environment. I see cooks and chefs hustling all around a gourmet kitchen covered in stainless-steel and smoke. I hear pots and bowls clinging around on the shelves, pans and trays coming in and out of the oven, sizzles and crackles of stoves and boiling water, and timers alerting their setters of food cooked to perfection. I smell pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage waiting in line to be taken to a breakfast buffet. After introducing myself to all the cooks that had a moment to spare before attending to their food, I followed my route into the dining hall. There I found waiters, waitresses, servers, food-runners, and bartenders all racing to and fro setting tables, making tea and coffee, and stocking up on sugars, sweeteners, or condiments. I introduced myself to them as well, and then found my way to the snack bar, my new place of employment for the next three months before I begin my sophomore year of high school. It is a smaller sized room with an open floor plan. There is a counter along two adjacent walls with a door and windows along the opposite wall leading out to the pool. It included three booths, and a private, smaller kitchen behind the snack bar. I began my day learning to stock the counter with straws, napkins, ketchup, and eating utensils. Then I work on laying out the candy shelves and the chips display. Lastly, I make fresh tea and soft pretzels before opening up for the day. It’s not long before the first of many customers comes in. Despite my enthusiasm to do well, it takes me several tries to understand the computer and the ordering process. To add to the embarrassment, when the food is ready and I walk the tray loaded with orders out to the lounge chairs I forget which customers ordered what, and who even ordered food at all. Although that first day was filled with setbacks and embarrassment, I still remember to this day how much I loved the responsibility and sense of accomplishment I had. As well as the appreciation and kindness I received from thankful customers. Now three years later I am the most experienced snack bar employee, I know nearly everyone’s membership numbers by heart, many know my name, and I’m the first chosen to work all the holidays and parties. Besides the highly treasured salary, I love my job because it has taught me more than anything else about responsibility, hard-work, and most importantly to me communication skills. Although it was just a simple starter job, this job taught me vital job skills that I'll use for the rest of my life.
Last year was the year that I believe began the start to my adult hood. My dad
had two herniated discs in his neck and was in more pain that I had ever seen
him in. Having two herniated discs in your neck effects your nervous system,
which is what controls your thinking and your body movements. So as a result of
this, my dads arm was not always working but was always in pain. If you were to
ask him how badly it hurt he would say these exact words, " Imagine somebody has
set your arm on fire, but no matter how hard you try you cant put it out." As a
result of him not being able to do his work around the house, I had to. I have
three older sisters but no brothers so I was the only other male in the house.
Im not going to lie, I was that kid who complains about hard physical work
because it is tiring and I don't wanna do it. However I would come to realize
that it wont be that way for long. Taking on my dads chores and
responsibilities around the house and outside the house made me more mature. I
never realized it until my parents pointed it out and that made me look back. I
never complained once about doing anything. Not lifting heavy things, not
yardwork, not fixing things or anything like that. It made me proud of how far
I had come in just six months. It also made me realize two things. The first I
will never forget for as long as I live. I finally realized how far you will go
to help a family member, even if it means you will have to sacrifice the "free
time" that we all love. I literally put everything I wanted to do second and my
father first, without even realizing it. It just came naturally. The second
thing is that doing all of the heavy lifting and all my dads chores not only
made me more mature, but changed me for the better to begin my adult hood in the
modern world.
My Tortoise Shell
It was a few weeks before the beginning of my middle school career, and as if this transition was not nerve racking enough, imagine being told that you would be wearing a full-body back brace as you walk into your sixth grade classroom for the first time. That was me- astonished, devastated, heart-broken.
I was diagnosed with scoliosis, a disease in which there is a curvature in the spine. Most kids have a very minor version of scoliosis but unfortunately for me, I was not part of those “most kids.” I had a twenty-nine degree curve in my spine and because I had just started growing, doctors were concerned that my curvature would grow too. If my curvature increased to thirty-five degrees, the doctors said I would need to get surgery. The only way to maintain the curve from growing was to brace me.
It doesn’t seem too bad to have to wear a brace, especially considering that it would decrease the risk of me having to get surgery, but this was no small velcro back brace; I was braced from my hips, all the way up my torso, to the top of my chest, in hard cast-like material. When I was given my brace, I instantly started crying; it looked like a tortoise shell. There was no way I could walk into sixth grade wearing that. All I wanted to do was curl up and hide in my new shell.
There have been so many people who have touched my life that when faced with this prompt it was hard to think of one who stood above the others. However, if I had to choose one person, I would say my little sister Morgan. My life would be completely different without her. Morgan has taught me so much whether she notices it or not. She is a very loud and outgoing person who always says exactly what she thinks. Whereas, I am more soft-spoken and shy. The clash in our different personalities has pushed me to grow. She knows exactly how to push my buttons and a lot of the time she does just that, but through her pestering she has taught me to stand up for myself. I always want to be nice and please everyone but I am confident that if someone were to give me a hard time, I would not allow him or her to push me around. That confidence I attribute to Morgan because without her testing my limits on occasion I would have a lot more trouble standing up for myself. Although Morgan does some things that I would never have the courage to do, I learn from her experiences as if I had gone through them myself. Morgan and I tell each other everything and that has had a profound impact in my life. I am a generally happy person and have been fortunate enough that not a lot of bad things have happened to me. However, when a stressful situation comes up the best way for me to deal with it is to talk everything out. Morgan is my outlet where I can come to her crying, ranting, or freaking out. I can talk to her about anything and I always do which is such a stress reliever. I cannot even imagine Morgan not being a part of my life. Without her I would most likely be lonely and unable to cope with daily stresses. We might not always act kindly towards each other but deep down I know my sister is a blessing that I could not live without.
As humans, I believe we experience failure everyday of our lives. I believe that each time we overcome failure we gain strength and wisdom in return. We gain strength to persevere through even the hardest obstacles we face within our lifetime and wisdom through the lessons failure teaches us on our journey. As humans it is almost second nature that we strive for perfection. Although, we sometimes fail to realize that ultimate perfection is impractical for us. Failure serves as a reminder to us that nothing in this world is perfect but we can strive to become very close to it by living up to our full potential that God has determined. I believe the time when I most experienced failure would be my freshman year of high school.
Coming to Saint Mark’s High School my freshman year was an unexpected challenge for me. Unlike most of my classmates, I came from a small, catholic, all-girl school that I had been attending since I was three years old. Choosing high schools for me was also very challenging. I applied to three schools, Saint Mark’s being the least liked of the three. When the two other schools fell through I was lead with no other option then to attend Saint Mark’s in the upcoming fall. With rumors of Saint Mark’s being easy academically, I went in thinking the next four years of my life would be a breeze. Little did I know this school would be the ultimate transition for me. I went from class sizes of ten students to almost three times as many at Saint Mark’s. Also, Saint Mark’s is a co-ed high school, something I was not used to. With a combination of many distractions, plus not having a desire to attend Saint Mark’s, it lead to nothing but disaster. I really slacked off my freshman year and never understood the importance of my academics until I sat down and spoke with my mom. She told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be when I become an adult but it all depended on how well I set myself up for success at Saint Mark's, right now. At the time it was a lot to take in but her inspiring words really moved me and by sophomore year I did a complete 360. My grades improved and even myself as a person improved. At first, I might not have been thrilled with the idea of coming to Saint Mark’s, but with my senior year approaching, I am very happy with my decision. By coming to Saint Mark’s I learned that everything truly does happen for a reason, and that God has a plan for everyone. I believe sometimes we have to experience failure in order to achieve greatness, something I am currently in the process of doing here at Saint Marks and will continue to do in college. My experience of failure gave me a reality check for my future and the success I will have coming my way. I believe if I didn’t experience this failure I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And although it was hard to deal with at the time, I still continue to have no regrets and wouldn’t change a thing.
I know that it’s only natural for a child to have a bad attitude and whine and throw numerous temper tantrums when they get upset, but for me that was a complete understatement. When I was younger, even up until the fifth or sixth grade, I had some serious anger management issues. It’s not like I would go around punching everyone in the face who did something that made me mad, but it seemed like everything little thing that irked me even in the slightest would send me over the edge. I just couldn’t seem to wrap my head around the concept that every annoyance or bothersome action didn’t always deserve retaliation. I felt the need to act out on my anger and did so foolishly because I didn’t really have a healthy outlet to deal with it otherwise. A prime example of this is when I was playing some 1-on-1 basketball with my friend and I got heated because he kept fouling me so I decided the only reasonable course of action would be to peg the ball as hard as I could at his face and give him a bloody nose. I would always be told to “chill out” and people would try to reason with me to control my anger but that would always just make me even more infuriated. Because of this, friends whom I was close with didn’t talk to me as much. It took me until middle school to truly realize how unacceptable my behavior was. After spending a very long time reflecting and thinking about it, and as I matured, it became much easier to handle. Since then I have made a complete turnaround and no longer “sweat the small stuff”. Nowadays I do pretty much everything I can to avoid confrontation or violence. Don’t get me wrong there are still a lot of things that really make me mad but I’ve learned, instead of bottling it in or letting it all out, to just kind of… let it go. I’m somewhat glad that I had this problem as a child because without it, I wouldn’t be as calm and collected of a person as I am now.
Every Sunday morning before I leave for mass, I prepare myself for what I am about to encounter. Countless news stories and newspaper articles about robberies, stabbings, and shootings that occur right along the street where, ironically, I feel most safe. My mother and I drive forty minutes to our little church, St. Mary’s Parish in Wilmington, where my Grandmother and Poppie met over seventy years ago. These weekly trips into the city have shaped me into who I am today. Walking by the homeless and needy, I can sense their desperation as they greet me good-morning through the groans of their empty stomachs. I pass by with a smile and small talk, hoping I am sending positivity their way. I know there is nothing I can do to ease their pain, but little do they know how much they have significantly affected my life. I see firsthand how truly lucky I am through my experiences with the homeless on Sunday mornings. I am humbled every I wake up in my warm bed, have food on the table, and come home to a family who loves me unconditionally. I am reminded of why I will never take these things for granted as I smile and say “may God bless you and always keep you in His loving presence," to the strangers who have no idea they have impacted my life in the most amazing way.
The last of the firsts
It was the last first day of school. The first day of the rest of my life. I thought I would be nervous. After all, my course load was not as light as many seniors before me. I had read my summer reading. I had bought new tights and school supplies. My backpack, as full as a Freshmen’s during second period, was filled with the fruits of an hour of Staples shopping. I knew I was ready. Yet, on that Tuesday afternoon, it still did not feel real. I was a senior. I would be one of the oldest students in the school, and a role model to underclassmen. In merely a few weeks I would be starting my applications, sounding my “barbaric yawp” for all to hear, in the hopes of receiving an acceptance letter in reply. A transcript, the choice words of a few diligently selected teachers, and my own essays were the only things standing in the way of my goals. Was I really ready? No. I am not an adult. I am only a kid, dealing with issues like what I am going to wear to Homecoming, not what I am going to do for the rest of my life. So on that Tuesday afternoon which had since turned to evening, I did what every teenager would have logically done when they were upset: I went on Twitter. I saw my classmates praising and raving about our school. Seniors and Juniors and Sophomores alike, all expressing their gratitude for an education at Saint Mark’s, our home. I saw my class come together. This seemingly insignificant event changed my outlook on my senior year, but it also marked a change in my priorities. I looked at the “big picture” rather than what is coming next. Frivolous tweets allowed me to grow up into the adult I needed to become for this, my final year of high school. This year would not be filled with stress and anxiety, but rather friendship, joy, and firsts; the last of the firsts.
Dial my pages of life history back five years and six months. It is a frosty afternoon in late February of 2007 and I have no idea why I have a large stick in my hand trying to catch an extremely heavy, hard, and fast moving ball while running around on frozen lumpy grass with my eyes watering. I had played lacrosse once before in a league when I was six years old and living in Maryland and had always had that experience in the back of my mind when I convinced my parents to let me try out for the Middletown Lacrosse Club Team coached by Pam Kern. The first day of Middletown tryouts seemed a little different than I had remembered as a pink t-shirt wearing six year old coached by my best friend’s father! Intimidating is a good word to describe the first few practices as many of the players already had a year or two of lacrosse experience. However, the voice of one person prevailed throughout those first challenging practices. It was a voice of patience and confidence. It was a voice that was positive but at the same time pushing me forward to try harder and practice on my own to increase my skill level. Pam Kern was the best coach that I have ever had in any of the sports that I’ve played, bar none. Coach Kern pushed me hard in practice and in our league games but was always encouraging at the same time. She expected more from us as players but also as people. If we had to miss practice she expected us, not our parents, to call her personally to explain why. Early on in playing for Middletown Lacrosse Club I understood unbridled love Coach Kern and her husband had for lacrosse. Even if I arrived at practice early Coach Kern was always there at the field doing something, including tending to the fields themselves. I played two awesome years for Coach Kern at Middletown and when I wasn’t at lacrosse practice or a game, I was motivated to practice every day on a pitch back at home for hours on end. Coach Kern taught me how to honor and respect the game of lacrosse and I now love the sport just as much. As I once read in a quote, “You don't have to be a 'person of influence' to be influential. In fact, the most influential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they've taught me.” It meant a lot to me to have the confirmation that my coach, Pam Kern, thought so much of me as a person and as a lacrosse player. Coach Kern remains one of the most influential people I have met in my life because she had ignited my passion for lacrosse.
The most influential person in my life is without a doubt my father. He has been an inspiration to me and I strive to be as much like him as I can. His father, my grandfather, was in the army so my dad traveled a lot while he was growing up. He traveled to many different countries and experienced the world at a young age. He learned how to be mature and make the best of the time he had at the same time, which is a skill he has taught me. He is always willing to go out of his way for people and I know I can go to him for absolutely anything without the fear of being judged or looked down on. He's been there for me and the rest of our family though thick and thin. Everybody who knows him knows that he's one of the most genuine, mature, brilliant, caring, fun loving people they've ever met. He taught me that there is a time for work and a time for play, and knowing the difference is extremely important. He's taught me so many life lessons in the past 17 years and I look forward to keep learning from him. There have been other people who have made significant impacts on my life, but my dad has been the most important.
The most influential person in my life would without a doubt be my grandmother. However, she is not the person I am going to write about in this assignment. Since I started high school I have become a runner. My coach, Michael DiGennaro has become very important to me. If I had not joined the cross country team my freshman year I don't think I would be the girl I am today. Coach Deej has had an enormous impact on my life. He is the greatest coach I have ever had the chance to be an athlete for. Now I know this sounds strange but most teams call their coach their "dad" however in my opinion coach Deej is like a big brother to my team and me. He legitimately cares for each and every girl on the team and would do anything to protect us and keep us safe.
When it comes to how he has had an impact on my life personally, it's the way he has coached me for almost four years. Now when I started cross country I was terrified. All I knew, well at least thought I knew, was that I had this crazy coach who was goin to run me into the ground, literally. Boy was I wrong! Coach Deej made me feel as though I was the greatest runner in the history of running. Mind you I was not a great runner at all at first. By the end of my first season coach had helped me find a talent I never knew I had. From that day forward he made sure he pushed me as hard as possible in order to make me the best runner I could be. Three years later coach DiGennaro still has yet to be satisfied with my progress. He still believes in me and my talent. Each and every day he pushes me. Coach DiGennaro is one of the most influential people in my life souly because he has not given up on me even during times I have given up on myself.
In the current world in which we reside, it appears to be a lot easier to see the cup as half empty. Everywhere you look there seems to be death and hurt, how can you possibly plaster a smile on your face in these circumstances? Over the past few years, there have been a number of rude awakenings that have attempted to build up a pessimistic filter over my eyes, and without my teacher and good friend Ms. Lee, the filter could have found a permanent residence. Somewhere along the almost weekly visits with Ms. Lee, I learned of her gift of lighting a candle in a room of darkness and her resilience in the face of anyone or anything that could take away her happiness. It takes a certain amount of fortitude to see the beauty and hope in negative situations and Ms. Lee has privileged me with insight to this strength. Ms. Lee has been an open ear in times of need but more importantly provided a positive spirit to model myself after. Going above and beyond the curriculum of freshman year guidance, Ms. Lee has taught me there is always reason to smile and has given me the courage to know I have the ability to change anything in my way of the vision of a half full glass.
Never has failure felt so much like success. Looking back at my past I searched for accomplishments that got me to where I am today but I didn’t stop to think that a failure would be the most influential component to all my success. I was about thirteen when my travel soccer team fell apart. I made the decision to try out for the most competitive and achieving travel soccer club in the state of Delaware. When I was informed that I had not made the team I felt like a failure, like I was not good enough. How could I be a great player if I wasn’t on the best team? But I wasn’t going to give up on the sport that I loved since I was three years old. I started to try out for other teams. I went from team to team and got challenged to play at a very competitive level against talented and skilled girls. I got training from a variety of coaches who helped me become a better player individually. I have played with nice girls on terrible teams and I have also played with cruel-hearted girls on good teams. I came to the conclusion that I had to make a decision on where I wanted to go with my soccer career. I had to decide whether I wanted to be on a great team or be a great player. I spent years playing with a number of teams and for a number of coaches. In the 15 years I have played soccer I have been influenced by close to 20 different coaches. About two years ago I landed on the team that I play for today. Truthfully we aren’t the best team in the world but we are full of astonishingly skilled players and we are coached by a nationally experienced college soccer coach. Ironically, my team had to come face to face with the team I failed to make when I was thirteen. After that game I realized that in failing to make that team, I became one step closer to one of my proudest achievements. This past year I was named the top 11th player in the state of Delaware over many of the girls I once thought were better than I would ever be. The event that I once cried about became the event that I now rejoice.
I’ve cried countless tears thanks to cancer taking my loved ones away from me so soon. Within a short six month period during my sophomore year of high school, I lost three of the closest relatives I had; my uncle, aunt, and grandmother. The grief I felt was unbearable. No more warming smiles, loving hugs, or eruptions of laughter at a sly comment made. No longer present for family dinners, vacations, Christmas, or birthdays. Those who were involved in my life were gone before I knew it and I had to search inside myself to find the courage and strength to accept it. Nothing could bring my family members back, but I believed that maybe helping others cope with loss or even preventing a loved one’s death could help me move on. This thought is what drove me to the idea of working in the medical field. Although it is too late to save my relatives from suffering and pain, I can save someone else or at least try. I feel that by giving my help and devotion to a family’s loved one, I am giving back to those no longer a part of my life and will be keeping their spirits alive. As I see it, my family members did not die without reason. Their deaths have given me the strength and passion I need to save someone’s life. The say everything happens for a reason, whether it is good or bad. In my particular case, the outcome is devastating but it has, in a sense, been the extra push I needed to understand what I must do with my life. Their influential battles to a lethal disease taught me to never give up and be the person to other’s that they were to me. I will be a families cushion; A warming smile to assure them that they can make it through an illness, a loving hug when mourning someone dear to them, and laughter full of happiness and relief when I give them the good news. Without the memories of my dearest family, I am unsure if I would have found my passion of working to heal others and for that I am forever grateful. They are my driving force and I will not let them down.
When I was four, everything I accomplished was attained for the sole purpose of spiting my older brother. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend, but I was the most competitive soul you would have ever met. I had this burning desire to be the absolute greatest at everything and anything. So, when Joshua started to read, of course I needed to learn before him. So I taught myself to read in secret; I started with the three-page children’s books, ones about dogs on logs in a thicket of fog. When I could at last interpret the lines and squiggles on the page, I wanted to surprise everyone with my ‘immense’ knowledge of the written world. However, I was unprepared for the results of my actions. I had no idea that those plain white pages, with no more than three words printed on them, could unlock comprehensive new worlds in my head. Soon, with my original purpose for learning to read forgotten, I was devouring books at an alarming rate. I had become addicted to the stories; I could practically see the planets and stars when reading about space, I could feel myself racing along side Heracles when reading ancient Greek mythology. I had yet to attend an actual school, but I had started to read biology and philosophy books too, just to imagine myself in a new, exciting environment. I attribute this, and my intense love of the written word, to that first second I decided to out-do my brother. I have no doubt that I would love literature no matter how I first encountered it; but I do think that it feels so personal and special to me because I discovered it myself. Each book that I have since read has stretched my imagination; each voice in every novel has become a good friend, and I would not be the same person that I am today without them.
When I was four, everything I accomplished was attained for the sole purpose of spiting my older brother. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend, but I was the most competitive soul you would have ever met. I had this burning desire to be the absolute greatest at everything and anything. So, when Joshua started to read, of course I needed to learn before him. So I taught myself to read in secret; I started with the three-page children’s books, ones about dogs on logs in a thicket of fog. When I could at last interpret the lines and squiggles on the page, I wanted to surprise everyone with my ‘immense’ knowledge of the written world. However, I was unprepared for the results of my actions. I had no idea that those plain white pages, with no more than three words printed on them, could unlock comprehensive new worlds in my head. Soon, with my original purpose for learning to read forgotten, I was devouring books at an alarming rate. I had become addicted to the stories; I could practically see the planets and stars when reading about space, I could feel myself racing along side Heracles when reading ancient Greek mythology. I had yet to attend an actual school, but I had started to read biology and philosophy books too, just to imagine myself in a new, exciting environment. I attribute this, and my intense love of the written word, to that first second I decided to out-do my brother. I have no doubt that I would love literature no matter how I first encountered it; but I do think that it feels so personal and special to me because I discovered it myself. Each book that I have since read has stretched my imagination; each voice in every novel has become a good friend, and I would not be the same person that I am today without them.
When I was four, everything I accomplished was attained for the sole purpose of spiting my older brother. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend, but I was the most competitive soul you would have ever met. I had this burning desire to be the absolute greatest at everything and anything. So, when Joshua started to read, of course I needed to learn before him. So I taught myself to read in secret; I started with the three-page children’s books, ones about dogs on logs in a thicket of fog. When I could at last interpret the lines and squiggles on the page, I wanted to surprise everyone with my ‘immense’ knowledge of the written world. However, I was unprepared for the results of my actions. I had no idea that those plain white pages, with no more than three words printed on them, could unlock comprehensive new worlds in my head. Soon, with my original purpose for learning to read forgotten, I was devouring books at an alarming rate. I had become addicted to the stories; I could practically see the planets and stars when reading about space, I could feel myself racing along side Heracles when reading ancient Greek mythology. I had yet to attend an actual school, but I had started to read biology and philosophy books too, just to imagine myself in a new, exciting environment. I attribute this, and my intense love of the written word, to that first second I decided to out-do my brother. I have no doubt that I would love literature no matter how I first encountered it; but I do think that it feels so personal and special to me because I discovered it myself. Each book that I have since read has stretched my imagination; each voice in every novel has become a good friend, and I would not be the same person that I am today without them.
Throughout the seventeen years of inhabiting Earth there is one person who has not only drastically changed my life but has also turned it around. It was about seven years ago around the same season when my parents had decided to embark on what seems to be a very common thing to do this day and age. The dreadful divorce, the words no kid ever wants to hear while they are growing up. The words hit me like I was getting punched in the stomach. Every ounce of breath that I had residing in my 80 pound body was gone. I did not know what to say. Who would in that situation? After the years went on I learned to deal with it, to recover from not seeing your mother anymore. It was hard at first, but the one person who helped me through it was my new mom that I currently live with today. Her name is Janet. She was not only another parental figure for when my dad was at work, but she also helped me turn my grades around, give me advice constantly, but above all, always being there for me and my sister. Although it may sound cheesy I have no idea where I would be my father never met her.
Neon Signs
LOOK AT ME. Is not that the mind set we have been taught? From an early age, we've become so accustomed to competing with one another that we almost have forgotten how silly it all is. As a society we've been told that there are hundreds of people who are just as athletic, smart, and talented as we are. But, it's been drummed into our heads as if that was something bad. There can only be one. There is one better than the rest. There is one at the top. It's frightening to have to compete for such a stance in society. So how do we stand out? We flaunt what we are good at Hoping, maybe someone somewhere will think that we are the best. But we're not so much convincing other people as we are trying to persuade ourselves, and that may be most frightening of all. Have we really lost all confidence in ourselves? When you have to convince yourself by bragging that you are good at something, the only thing that proves is that you need the reassurance in the first place. It is only when you really believe you are great-that you don't have to tell yourself, or anyone else for that matter, anymore. We are all great, and no offense to Shakespeare, but we were all BORN great. If only we could see this for our own eyes-then there would be no more competing, no more putting others down, and no more self-esteem problems. Don't you think that's what God thinks? When he sees us flashing our neon signs-the light shining in the dark for everyone, but ourselves, to see, I'm sure that he laughs and says, “I am looking, and you are wonderful, but not for the reasons you think.” My pop-pop taught me this. He'll never know how much I learned from him. It never ceased to amaze me that the most accomplished man I ever met could also be the essence of humility. I didn't even know all of his titles until he passed away because he refused to let on how smart he was. I could brag about him for hours, but the truth is-I don't have to. I don't have to prove to you that he was great anymore than you have to prove to me that you are great. You just are. He just was. I know that my pop-pop was great, and deep down he always knew it too.
Even though I am only 17, many experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. Possibly the most life changing and life impacting experience was that of my parents’ divorce. It happened early freshman year; I will always remember the date was September 21st. My parents just sat my sister and me down and said that they were getting separated. It had been a really rough summer, and that’s how it ended. Over the next couple of months my life changed massively. We had to sell our beach house (which happened to be the first house my dad ever built and which I had gone to every summer of my life), our boat, and our car. My mom moved out and got an apartment in Wilmington, and moving day happened to fall on my dad’s birthday. Add all this to my first year of high school, and you can see it was a very hard year. The following summer, my Grandpa (my mother’s father) passed away right out of the blue. It seemed like nothing good could happen. Sometimes I didn’t think it would get any better; that my parents would never be able to get along, that nothing was going to turn out alright. But, as time went on, I adjusted. You learn to cope with these things after a while. I split time between my mom and dad, and things did improve. Today, things are better. My mom has since bought a house five minutes away from my dad’s, and they are able to get along better now. It is not completely perfect, and it never will be, but it is much better than it was. Through these past 3 years I have grown as a person. I think the divorce has made me a stronger, more mature person, and has better prepared me to deal with things. It also strengthened my faith, because when things were more difficult, I relied on my faith and prayed. Getting through my parents’ divorce has made me into the person I am today, and it brought me closer to God and to my family.
A pool member told me one day while on the stand, that I wear a “red shirt of courage.” I smiled, not really thinking about the comment too much, and proceeded to watch the pool, scanning it to make sure nobody was drowning. Lifeguarding has been my job for the past two summers. Luckily, at my pool, we don’t have any serious rescues, just mostly a “catch and release” type of thing. However, on one of the hottest days of the year, my biggest rescue was not in the water. I had just gotten off stand and was ready for my fifteen-minute break. I went into the office, as I usually do, to talk to whoever was working. As I was standing in the office, I noticed a woman running down from the hill. They asked for the phone, so I gave it to them. They looked panicky, so I asked what was wrong. They proceed to say “Our friend is passed out on the hill, not responding.” As soon as I hear this, I yell for my brother, Thomas, who is also on break, and the both of us run up to the hill while 911 is being dialed. When I reached their friend, I went through all of the necessary procedures. Is the area safe? Check. Does she have a pulse? Weak, but yes. When we told the EMT on the phone what her symptoms were, he told us to lay her on her side, because there was not much more we could do. As we waited for the EMT’s to arrive, I was scrambling around, keeping people away from the woman, and making sure that our gate was open for the ambulance to enter. When the ambulance arrived, the EMT’s took over and brought her out on a stretcher. She was alive and breathing when she left, but had to be taken to the hospital to diagnose what had happened and possibly receive further treatment. All of this happened in less than fifteen minutes. It was by far the most frightening moment of my life, but also an event that I learned so much from. My job is to save people, whether it is in or out of the pool. I’m trained in First Aid and CPR for a reason, and I’m taught how to deal with emergencies. If there is one thing I learned from this experience, it’s that staying calm is necessary in any situation. My job was to help this person; I didn’t have time to freak out. I just had to put my emotions aside and do my job, and now I can proudly say that I helped save a person’s life.
When a phoenix reaches the end of a life cycle, it allows itself to be consumed in flames in order to reincarnate from the ashes that form. I encountered a similar end of a life cycle in the 6th grade. My life was reaching its peak; I finally had the confidence and support to express my individuality in my tight-knit group of friends. But then everything went up in flames. Tension formed and disaster sparked. I’m not sure exactly how or who started it, but an enormous feud began between my closest friend, Bradley, and I. The person whom I had placed my deepest trust in betrayed me. He taunted me with harsh words and ostracized me from my group. This explosion ignited a darker side in me, in which I furiously retaliated. After that, the blaze began to slowly wane. Apologies were formed but the embers remained. Much like the phoenix, I arose from that horrid inferno reborn with a new view on life. I learned that placing your trust in someone is a volatile task and should not be done lightly. I learned that I would have to face the heat sometimes and figure out how to do that without being scorched. The feud was certainly a traumatic and devastating event in my life, but in a way I needed to get burned in order to rise again stronger and ready to thrive.
An event that really changed my life was like any other day. I was on my way to school when the unthinkable happened. The car in front of me veered across the road and struck an innocent kid. My heart sank at the sight of the incident. This replayed in my mind for months and all I could think about is how I could have possibly got the attention of the kid or the sleeping driver. That if I would have blown the horn the guy might have woken up or the kid would have turned in time to of seen the car. This incident will forever be seared into my brain but what hit me the hardest was the fact that this kid was only 17. That he was taken at such a young age and not being able to enjoy the world that most of us take for granted. Worst of all his parents will never get to see their son grow up. This really changed my perception on life. It made me realize the importance of life and how lucky we are to be here, that at the blink of an eye it could all be gone. This drives me every day to better myself as a person and to put my life to good use to serve others.
Art was always the thing that defined me, or at least, the thing that people told me defined me. I liked to draw, to paint, to play, anything that gave my mind, always dreaming, something to latch onto. Especially when stress got the better of me, or my situation wasn’t the greatest, art became something to keep me from having to deal with problems. And whenever someone asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, I would always choose the answer they expected, even though it was really the escape route that allowed me to continue to dream. “An artist,” I would say. Without fail, they gave me the responses I wanted to hear. The ones that, after awhile, led me to believe I couldn't do anything else. The affirmations, the encouragements. “An artist? Why? That’s not you. You’ll be miserable—and broke—are you serious?” That came from my best friend. He evidently knew me better than I knew myself. I made a sarcastic comment in reply, but his words stuck. I’d always been The Artist. No one had ever looked at me and told me I could be anything else. It was like being stuck in a deep hole and having someone show up at the top with a rope. But I had been in the hole for so long, at first I wasn't sure I wanted to leave. After a while, I realized my friend was right, I really didn't want to make art a living. A few months later, and I climbed out of the hole for good, oddly enough, while watching a crime drama on television. My dad was pointing out the factual errors and somehow, the points connected. The next day, I brought the subject back up when talking with my friend. He cocked one eyebrow, not sure if he should take me seriously or not, until I told him. Forensic psychologist. He nodded immediately. It wasn’t the fact that he approved that made me smile, it was that feeling of knowing, of having some idea of the future. The feeling of rightness. Something I’d never had. I felt more like an adult, and now I don’t let other people define me. All it took was someone being honest, and my view of my life, and my future, completely changed.
If there is one thing in my lifetime that I have been completely fascinated by, it's the reality of how quickly things can change. Whether it be for the good or for the bad, I've never ceased to be amazed at how quickly this life moves, and doesn't slow down for anyone. The most prominent and probably the quickest change which I can recall in my life happened to be a change for the worse. This change came in the form of a car accident, and in a split second flipped my world upside down. In that split second, although I did not initially realize it, not only had I lost my first car which I worked all summer saving up for, but also my freedom, social life, and essentially my happiness for the next couple months. Despite the many negatives of this situation, I was still incredibly lucky and blessed to be alive. All it took was a fraction of a second of hesitation, resulting in the point of impact being approximately one foot away from my door. If I hadn't taken that moment of hesitation, or maybe even left my friends house just one second earlier, I might have not been so lucky. This reality of how quickly things can change never fails to make me feel microscopic. After the accident, needless to say I have become a more careful driver, but I learned to never take anything for granted. It was perhaps the lowest point I've reached in my life, and will always be a reminder to myself how quickly life can change.
If there is one thing in my lifetime that I have been completely fascinated by, it's the reality of how quickly things can change. Whether it be for the good or for the bad, I've never ceased to be amazed at how quickly this life moves, and doesn't slow down for anyone. The most prominent and probably the quickest change which I can recall in my life happened to be a change for the worse. This change came in the form of a car accident, and in a split second flipped my world upside down. In that split second, although I did not initially realize it, not only had I lost my first car which I worked all summer saving up for, but also my freedom, social life, and essentially my happiness for the next couple months. Despite the many negatives of this situation, I was still incredibly lucky and blessed to be alive. All it took was a fraction of a second of hesitation, resulting in the point of impact being approximately one foot away from my door. If I hadn't taken that moment of hesitation, or maybe even left my friends house just one second earlier, I might have not been so lucky. This reality of how quickly things can change never fails to make me feel microscopic. After the accident, needless to say I have become a more careful driver, but I learned to never take anything for granted. It was perhaps the lowest point I've reached in my life, and will always be a reminder to myself how quickly life can change.
If there is one thing in my lifetime that I have been completely fascinated by, it's the reality of how quickly things can change. Whether it be for the good or for the bad, I've never ceased to be amazed at how quickly this life moves, and doesn't slow down for anyone. The most prominent and probably the quickest change which I can recall in my life happened to be a change for the worse. This change came in the form of a car accident, and in a split second flipped my world upside down. In that split second, although I did not initially realize it, not only had I lost my first car which I worked all summer saving up for, but also my freedom, social life, and essentially my happiness for the next couple months. Despite the many negatives of this situation, I was still incredibly lucky and blessed to be alive. All it took was a fraction of a second of hesitation, resulting in the point of impact being approximately one foot away from my door. If I hadn't taken that moment of hesitation, or maybe even left my friends house just one second earlier, I might have not been so lucky. This reality of how quickly things can change never fails to make me feel microscopic. After the accident, needless to say I have become a more careful driver, but I learned to never take anything for granted. It was perhaps the lowest point I've reached in my life, and will always be a reminder to myself how quickly life can change.
As individuals we are shaped by the ones we encounter, however we decide how we let it affect us. I was young when I met this girl who would change my view of myself. Almost instantaneously we became the best of friends despite the difference in our personalities. She was loud and outgoing while I was timid and kept to myself. The thought of what others were saying never crossed her mind; she was true to herself and her beliefs. She was her own person, and she let nothing hold her back. She had a fullness of self-awareness that was unknown to me. Her ability to care for herself while graciously caring for the ones around her astonished me, for I was never able to do both with such ease. She lived her life with the most love that I have ever witnessed. Love was her secret weapon for life. She accepted her life as it was, with all of her setbacks and problems. It was those struggles that made her life this way. She taught me how to be myself and not to focus on what others have to say. I realized how much her life changed mine for the better. I am not that shy little girl anymore, but I am still nothing like her. As I grow older, I remember how she lived. I remember how much she loved the world. I let her shape me into the person that I am today. And even if she does not consider me her best friend today, she will always be one of mine.
I squatted, suffocated by the stench of hair spray, wedged between the wall and the mob of hurried people roaming the floor of the hotel. As I laced the bow on my last ghillie, I smiled as I remembered my first Irish dancing class when I was only six. My mom had laced up my shoes for me and it was then that I knew I wanted to love dancing as much as she did.
“What did I get myself into..?!” I thought to myself as I slipped on my borderline-gaudy, over-a-grand dress, ready to go onstage. Nerves wiggled their way from my stomach to my feet as I watched the powerfully graceful dancers before me raise the expectations - from the judges, from my teachers, from myself.
The music started and I began on cue. But before I knew it, I was already on the ground. "Don’t miss a beat," I told myself as I leaped back to my toes and regrouped, continuing without hesitation. Disappointment. 9 years of dancing had amounted to this? "Brush it off. You know you’re stronger in your second round," my teachers reassured me after my surprising slip onstage. This time I held back from watching the competition the way I also held back dancing my second round, as to be careful not to slip again. Round two done. It was good. But not good enough to redeem the fall that destroyed my shot at standing on that podium. And I was right. I came in third to last.
I knew my teachers were disappointed, but secretly I was proud. I had danced for my mom at my first competition without her.
My mom had done everything for me. She put my wig in, touched up my makeup, fastened fly-aways, & reminded me of technique tweaks as I shooed her away right before I went onstage. But the one thing she never could do for me was dance. That is what I did for her & continue to do for her.
At that moment I knew she had been watching over me & I realized that in my failure, I hadn’t really failed. Growing up isn’t defined by becoming a legal adult and earning your own paycheck but by accepting failures as lessons learned and using them as inspiration to see the best in every situation. By doing my absolute best the first time I didn’t have my biggest supporter by my side, I realized that I hadn’t let myself down, and that was all that mattered. I learned that strength isn’t proved by a ranking or a score, but by willpower and perseverance. In coming to this realization as I stood side-stage, I also knew that by accepting this fact, I had grown up.
Putting on those shoes will never quite be the same. I am no longer the six year-old girl who wanted to be just like her Irish dancing mommy at her very first dance class. I have become what my mom was and desired for me to be: determined and strong.
Balance
As a student athlete I have learned the importance of balance. According to Webster's definition, balance is mental and emotional steadiness. To me balance is even more than just that. Balance means creating time instead of "finding time." Right now, at my age, this means creating time for school, family, friends, and extra curricular activities. I have experienced all four of these categories in my life at Saint Marks High School. Just when I thought I had it all together something very serious happened to me. October 7th of 2012 was like any other normal Sunday. The night before was the big homecoming dance and I slept over a friend's house. We woke up, ate, and went to volleyball practice. In the blink of an eye my world was turned upside down. I literally lost my physical balance and emotional balance. I was hit right in the forehead with a volleyball. I had never gotten a concussion before in my life and had been playing sports since the age of four. Concussions affect every person differently and in my case it affected my vision. I was diagnosed with amblyopia and anisometropia when I was just three years old. The vision in my left eye was so poor that it turned completely in towards my nose and I constantly saw double. I went through eye patching, corrective lenses and surgery until doctors finally got it under control. That Sunday afternoon all of the doctors' hard work pretty much got thrown out the window. When my brain got jiggled around that day something drastically changed. Before I realized what was going on, I already starting seeing double again. I was not allowed to do anything but sit in a dark room for two weeks. I eventually made my way back into school. Total, I missed ten weeks of school work. Although it was not easy I had to find my balance again through all of this chaos. I had to really focus for the first time in my life on just myself, on healing and getting better. I had to attend balance therapy once a week and was in rehabilitation for six months. Through all of this I learned balance is key.
Balance
As a student athlete I have learned the importance of balance. According to Webster's definition, balance is mental and emotional steadiness. To me balance is even more than just that. Balance means creating time instead of "finding time." Right now, at my age, this means creating time for school, family, friends, and extra curricular activities. I have experienced all four of these categories in my life at Saint Marks High School. Just when I thought I had it all together something very serious happened to me. October 7th of 2012 was like any other normal Sunday. The night before was the big homecoming dance and I slept over a friend's house. We woke up, ate, and went to volleyball practice. In the blink of an eye my world was turned upside down. I literally lost my physical balance and emotional balance. I was hit right in the forehead with a volleyball. I had never gotten a concussion before in my life and had been playing sports since the age of four. Concussions affect every person differently and in my case it affected my vision. I was diagnosed with amblyopia and anisometropia when I was just three years old. The vision in my left eye was so poor that it turned completely in towards my nose and I constantly saw double. I went through eye patching, corrective lenses and surgery until doctors finally got it under control. That Sunday afternoon all of the doctors' hard work pretty much got thrown out the window. When my brain got jiggled around that day something drastically changed. Before I realized what was going on, I already starting seeing double again. I was not allowed to do anything but sit in a dark room for two weeks. I eventually made my way back into school. Total, I missed ten weeks of school work. Although it was not easy I had to find my balance again through all of this chaos. I had to really focus for the first time in my life on just myself, on healing and getting better. I had to attend balance therapy once a week and was in rehabilitation for six months. Through all of this I learned balance is key.
It happened on a Tuesday. October 22, 2002. The day that changed my perspective on life. I was in first grade and on that Tuesday, something out of the ordinary happened. Usually, my mom picked me up every day after school and we would stop at 7-11 to get Slurpees on the way home, but not this day. On this day, my Nanny picked me up from school. There was no Slurpee and no mommy, just a worried grandmother and an uneasy feeling in my 6-year-old stomach. When I arrived at her house I asked her why she had picked me up. She simply replied by saying, “Mommy and daddy are busy right now.” All I was worried about was going to the reptile show at my school that night like mommy had promised we would. Throughout the night, I kept asking Nanny when my mom was coming to pick me up for the show. Her answer every time was, “She is busy right now, honey.” Finally, at 9:32 pm, my dad had arrived at my grandmother's house. I lost track of time and figured that he came to pick me up and take me to the show, but this was not the case. I got into the car and all I could hear was the howl of the October winds outside. I glanced over at my dad and all I could see was one teardrop running down his cheek. This was the first time I had seen my dad cry. I noticed his lips struggling, quivering, to say something that I knew had nothing to do with the reptile show. He slowly put the car into drive and tried to begin speaking, but instead the tears began to flow. Once he gained some composure, he said, “Mommy was in a car accident today, she has not woken up yet.” I immediately had a meltdown and completely forgot about the reptile show. I was a six year old who would potentially have to grow up and go through life without a mother. There will never be any words to describe what I felt in that moment, but if I had to choose one I would choose nothingness. All I could do was think about all of the things that I would do in life that my mom would never get to see.
The next day was a hard day, but a good day. I was silent in school all day. Classmates asked me what was wrong and I simply said to each of them, “I might have lost my best friend” and left it at that. Going to a Catholic school, we prayed in the morning and afternoon. During both of these prayers, I asked God to please give me my mommy back. I told him that all I wanted to do was tell her that I love her and give her a big hug one last time. That night, as me and my dad were siting at the kitchen counter eating dinner, the house phone rang. It was a call from the hospital. It was the call that made me realize the prominent role that God will play in my life for the rest of my days. The hospital had said that my mother had woken up and is somewhat responsive. Though she had a snapped spinal cord, broken ribs, and permanent brain damage, she was alive nonetheless. It was that day that I grew a little in faith (which is a big step for a 1st grader), a lot in appreciation, and more than I can express in love for my mother. It was this day that I realized the value of life.
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